Weird experience with neighbor this afternoon

[Bucky]

The girl from the 20 sumpins who live in the upstairs duplex from us knocked on my door today and asked me to take down my yard signs. I have two, one supporting Jim Henley for Congress, one supporting Ellen Cohen for State Rep. I was a little taken back by this (plus I had been napping when she knocked). I was like "wha- ?"

Then she goes, "Well, I just don't want those signs in my front yard."

She's a nervous girl and her BF is a loud vacuous chain-smoking Yup. They just moved down here from Chicago and I don't think they're too good about things like courtesy and adult conversation and not smoking on the goddamn shared porch. Bless their hearts.

Suddenly it hit me what her real beef was. Two weeks ago, after quiet seething about them chain smoking on our shared front stoop and then leaving the cigarette butts in big and increasingly stinky pail right in front of my door, I politely (I swear, very politely) asked Kevin, the Yuppie BF, if he could not leave the pail on the front stoop since I have friends who come over and it looks unsightly.

I didn't say "looks trashy" because I'm sensitive like that. I said "doesn't look too nice" which a true gentleman would understand to mean "disgustingly barfazoic."

He looked perplexed (like as in "who would have a problem with a big damn pail of stinky cigarette butts sitting in front of their front door?") but started putting it discreetly off to the side of the stoop behind some bushes. I allowed this semi-trashy compromise to stand cause I can't stand confrontations. And the last time someone in my family had a confrontation with someone from Illinois we had to rejoin the Union.

So now I'm guessing he's sent his GF down to gripe about my yard signs (in her front yard) as a counter gotcha. "Well, it's just that they're yard signs for candidates I don't know about."

Actually putting the yard signs out front was my kid's idea, so as I stalled so I could figure out what this contretemps was really about, I went "Well, they were my daughter's idea..." and she suddenly got this shocked look on her face.

"Your daughter? You mean that girl who lives with you?"

Again, I felt the need to model Southern graciousness to my new neighbors, so I said "Yes, that's my daughter who lives with me" rather than "Yes, that's my daughter who lives with me, dumb ass."

See, cause us Texans are so well known for our politesse.

Then Yuppie girl, starts up stammering, "Oh I didn't know that was your daughter. I mean, I thought she might be your... niece or... your... friend. "

Okay, quit talking now, lady.

"She seemed... young."

No, really. Quit talking.

"Well, I guess it's okay then. I mean, you're encouraging your daughter to be, well... involved."

I just smiled blandly.

Then there was more unimportant sputtering from a woman whom I'm guessing got run out of Chicago on the stupid rail, but having won this little confrontation, I got to be yet furtherly polite in that stealth-smug Southern way we have whenever we watch harmless opponents eat crow.

"Well, if it's a deal to you, I guess I could move one of those yard signs over to where it's less obtrusive."

"No, no. If it's for your daughter, I guess I can live with it until November."

Again, I smiled politely and waited. Because there always has to be punch line with these things. And so on cue she goes, "I just didn't know if they were there for some weird political cause or something," before going back into her home.

I was able to shut the door before laughing. Two Democrats running for office is a "weird political cause." I'm guessing now they're not Democrats. Probably not Republicans either. This is probably actually about the cigarette butts pail. My next move will be to invite them down for a barbecue next weekend and be a gracious host. Then my victory will be complete. Mwa-ha-ha!

Speaking of intrusive Illinois Yankees...

Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?

--Abraham Lincoln

[skygazer]

1. "Your daughter?!"

:rofl:

Thanks for the chuckle.

[Haole Girl]

2. HA-ha=ha!

Thanks for sharing this. I got a kick out of it! :D

[XemaSab]

3. So basically what you're saying is

maybe we didn't REALLY win the Civil War in the north after all?

Because I have been invited to Southern Barbacues before... :scared:

[HarukaTheTrophyWife]

4. Yeah, I don't trust that "bless your heart" shit.

I firmly believe that if you're saying "fuck you" to someone, the words coming out of your mouth should be "fuck you, asshole" and not "bless your heart, child."

Fuck that bullshit.

[Bucky]

8. Well, isn't that special?

:evilgrin:

[HarukaTheTrophyWife]

10. Yeah, well fuck you guys.

:P

[Bucky]

11. Okay, but I'd like to buy you dinner first

I'll be serving you a syruppy smile on a stack of cornpone.

[HarukaTheTrophyWife]

12. What the hell is cornpone?

[Bucky]

14. Since it's from me, it's stunningly sophisticated wordplay

SYLLABICATION: corn·pone
PRONUNCIATION: kôrn pōn
VARIANT FORMS: or corn pone
NOUN: (Chiefly Southern & Midland U.S.) johnnycake, light bread, pone.
ADJECTIVE: (Informal) Folksy and homespun, as in manner or speech: a penchant for cornpone humor; cornpone political prose. Often shortened to "corny" and implying intentionally or disingenuously folksy and rural.

Gratuitous and probably irrelevent Mark Twain citation:

Corn-Pone Opinions

FIFTY YEARS AGO, when I was a boy of fifteen and helping to inhabit a Missourian village on the banks of the Mississippi, I had a friend whose society was very dear to me because I was forbidden by my mother to partake of it. He was a gay and impudent and satirical and delightful young black man -- a slave -- who daily preached sermons from the top of his master's woodpile, with me for sole audience. He imitated the pulpit style of the several clergymen of the village, and did it well, and with fine passion and energy. To me he was a wonder. I believed he was the greatest orator in the United States and would some day be heard from. But it did not happen; in the distribution of rewards he was overlooked. It is the way, in this world.

He interrupted his preaching, now and then, to saw a stick of wood; but the sawing was a pretense -- he did it with his mouth; exactly imitating the sound the bucksaw makes in shrieking its way through the wood. But it served its purpose; it kept his master from coming out to see how the work was getting along. I listened to the sermons from the open window of a lumber room at the back of the house. One of his texts was this:

"You tell me whar a man gits his corn pone, en I'll tell you what his 'pinions is."

I can never forget it. It was deeply impressed upon me. By my mother. Not upon my memory, but elsewhere. She had slipped in upon me while I was absorbed and not watching. The black philosopher's idea was that a man is not independent, and cannot afford views which might interfere with his bread and butter. If he would prosper, he must train with the majority; in matters of large moment, like politics and religion, he must think and feel with the bulk of his neighbors, or suffer damage in his social standing and in his business prosperities. He must restrict himself to corn-pone opinions -- at least on the surface. He must get his opinions from other people; he must reason out none for himself; he must have no first-hand views.

Ingredients:

1 tblsp bacon grease
3/4 cup boiling water
1 cup corn meal, white or yellow
1 tsp salt

Directions: In heavy cast iron skillet heat bacon grease. In mixing bowl combine corn meal and salt. Pour the boiling water over the mixture. Next add the melted fat and blend well. When mixture is cool enough to handle, form the dough into four equal sized pones. These are about 3/4 inch thick and oval in shape. Place in iron skillet and bake at 450 degrees for about 50 minutes or until golden brown. Yields 4 servings. This is great with bean soup.

[HarukaTheTrophyWife]

15. Yeah, right there...1st ingredient. I can't eat it.

I'm sure my heart will do fine though with my Yankee diet.

[Bucky]

7. Well, compare and then you tell me

Atlanta:


New York:


But I'm not a sore loser since I'd probably make for a pretty crappy slave driver anyway. "Oh sure, Caesar, you can take Yom Kippur off and go visit your sick momma in Canada. Just make sure you're back by harvest time."

[graywarrior]

5. The stupid rail.....I had no idea...it makes total sense.

[YellowRubberDuckie]

6. LOL...She thought you were a sugar daddy...

Bless her dumb little heart. I'll bet her boyfriend sent her down because he's too much of a coward to do it himself. I work with some ignorant people like that. They don't keep up with currnet events, don't care about what's going on with their government, aren't into anything except drinking, smoking, and partying. I despise ignorance.
Duckie

[Bucky]

13. I guess, but what kinda sugar daddy lives in a duplex?

If my daughter were to ever get taken in by a sugar daddy, she'd better at least have a McMansion and a sweet sports car to show for it. Not that her current girlfriend would be any more accepting of it.

[Floogeldy]

9. *Snicker snicker*

Good post, Bucky. :)